


alhambra

by tasteslikemiso



Category: Bleach
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-22
Updated: 2010-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-13 22:18:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tasteslikemiso/pseuds/tasteslikemiso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hypnosis can only result from a willingness to believe, and fantasies can be rewritten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	alhambra

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by Soggy PB&J. Title from the August 20, 2005 prompt for [](http://31-days.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://31-days.livejournal.com/)**31_days** .

There was once a dream that began with a kiss. Her eyes were so deep in his; she couldn't see anything and she couldn't see anything else. She built a palace of this fairytale and lived in it like a queen. The story changed day to day but always began the same way, with that thrilling kiss of his eyes choosing hers over all others. She prepared reports and tea, forgot about ambition and what it was like outside the walls of her own making.

Everything gleamed perfect white; graceful arches curved above her as she passed in and out of rooms. She twirled around columns, singing to herself, bowing to her invisible partner. It was a paradise inside heaven; she dared not go outside the fortress.

She set her complex in the forest, not so far from the calls of little forest boys who may have been permitted to visit if they weren't so perpetually rude to the lady and her lord. The boy climbed 13 towers and every one was empty; he would climb them all again until he saw her.

She sat in the gardens looking at the sculpted foliage, the pristine hedges and flowers in neat rows. She did not miss the trees' wild beauty, the tangle of branches and color, roots curling underfoot.

She watched the fountains and saw only his reflection in the water. Transfixed, she dared not touch it but she could imagine the flowing coolness passing over her face. She sat on the edge and draped herself in indigo, it may as well have been the ocean. She did not think of shrieking laughter and splashing in the stream, not once.

She thought she could make out inscriptions on the walls but she couldn't read them. She ran her hands over the beautiful painted tiles and traced words in stone, telling herself again the story of dreams and at long last, a kiss.

She awoke from the strangest of dreams, a little-girl story, a princess story. She hadn't yet made any sound; the boy's head was still bent over, his hands held together fiercely. She sat up, slowly, and he straightened almost immediately. She fixed her gaze elsewhere; his eyes were too raw to meet.

She realized she hurt; was this a memory or a nightmare? She saw another blade in her chest, his wings folded protectively around her. He hadn't been here the last time she awoke; he should have been the last person she wanted to see now. But he looked so worn and so tired, she wanted to wrap him in her arms; he looked so old and so young.

Where was her strength? She felt suddenly that it had deserted her, though her armband was lying on the table beside her. She looked, reflexively, for her captain. She slumped back down, caught under the weight of memories.

The fountains in her dreams ran red, the walls and doors red, as if the purest white had lifted from the rust-red stain. The towers twisted into red; the red wall rose above everything. She hid in the red citadel and the boy was there, still there waiting, so old and so young.

"Hinamori, what is it?" he sounded concerned. She sighed a little.

"A dream..." There was, once.

He shouldn't look at her ever again, his eyes so deep in hers. She had nothing left to give, nothing worth giving. He still looked at her, through her, there should always be a kiss with beginnings.


End file.
